Cuckoo Kawfee Porter: “It’s Medication Time.”
Tue, 17 Dec 2013 18:55:00
“What do you think you are, for Chrissake, crazy or somethin’? Well you’re not! You’re not! You’re no crazier than the average asshole out walkin’ around on the streets and that’s it. ”
― Ken Kesey, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
First the Darkness, then the Deep Freeze, and then that Hankering for a shot of jet black, kawfee-infused, roasted biscuit, malt forward Porter Madness.
Introducing Cuckoo Kawfee Porter, inspired by the genius of Ken Kesey, who wrote The Book that became The Movie that was shot at The Mental Hospital that got torn down which yielded studs which we cleaned up and re-crafted for our bartop and table tops. Whew!
This is Worthy’s first half-crazed concoction from our pilot brew system, a beer born under the banner of our “Heart and Soul Series.”
Quiet the Ghouls
One whiff and the your inner Cuckoo Bird, mad with fright and confusion, after hours of circling, has found it’s nest. It’s settle down time. Drop those shoulders. Plant those elbows on the Nuthouse wood and clutch that pint glass like you’re courting it. Admire the thick, foamy crema head. Swirl the dark magic around.
You’re not crazy, far from it. But by gawd it’s nuts out there. And between the ears, well, from time to time it’s not hard for the mental wheels to go caddywampus. If you sit at our bar and look deeply into the reclaimed Insane Asylum wood you can almost hear a cold-hearted Scold snakishly whispering: “It’s medication time…”
Time to settle the score, lop the heads off a few demons, re-align those wheels, stop the unraveling, toss out the garbage and flip the finger at all the Nurse Ratcheds. It’s cold outside and the toes don’t warm up quite like they used to. This is sweater and dark beer weather. You want a beer that can warm the cockles and crush the nameless idiot voices which trespass on your tranquility like soldier ants coursing through the bush in search of fresh wounded meat.
We’re not promising clarity, over here. We’re not guaranteeing sanctuary. It’s just beer, after all.
Or is it? This is no ordinary brew. This is our foray into Misadventure Land, where even bad ideas have a chance to turn it around or get lucky and go prime time. Chad and the boyz built a solid, dark roasty-toast malt bed, layered it with a faint dose of hop bitterness, and then spiked it with a bag of Africa’s finest Ethiopian Yirgacheffe coffee grounds.
Now we don’t go around here dropping names like “Yirgacheffe” (YER-GUH-CHEF). We called up our buddy Bobby Grove over at Thump Coffee and asked Bend’s resident Java Guru for his sage advice. He struck a pose, scratched his phantom goatee and bingo! Ethiopian Yirgacheffe wound up in the fermenter. Bobby assured us it was loaded with an “orange blossom fragrance” but frankly all I get is an eye-popping, heart-jolting gust of kawfee.
You’re Not a Loony Now!
Yes, Cuckoo Kawfee Porter’s got your toasted biscuit maltiness, your dark fruit richness, that coveted clean kawfee brightness, and a beguiling dry finish. But it’s not just for breakfast. It will warm, intrigue and delight you just about any time of day.
So, if the wheels are coming off or you just want to clean out the cobwebs, drop on by for a pint of Cuckoo Kawfee Porter. We have around 4 barrels so it will go fast.
“Which one of you nuts has got any guts?”*
* Randolph McMurphy
PS – We have about 4,000 board feet of salvaged wood from the Oregon Mental Hospital. 300 year old Old Growth Doug Fir felled with double bladed axes in the late 1800s. Strong and sturdy and riddled with rare-coin quality square nails. We’re going to put it up for auction soon so stand by. You too can own a piece of lunacy.
Cuckoo Kawfee Porter sandwiched between Cuckoo’s Nest wood on the ceiling and bartop. On tap today.
Chad Kennedy, Worthy’s own “goddamn marvel of modern science,” standing by to help liberate your looney birds.
All praise to Coffee Roaster, Herbalist and Healer Bobby Grover, who spiked our Cuckoo porter and gave us a new word. Repeat after me: YER-GAH-CHEF.
“You’re not an idiot. Huh! You’re not a goddamn looney now, boy. You’re a fisherman!” Randolph McMurphy, a few clicks west of Depot Bay.
Who’s the head bull goose looney around here? Place your bets and take your chances.